


Forgotten Reunion

by Straccia_Tella



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Gen, i wanted to write about their first meeting when i read their support convo, takes place before the game's story, there's no real romance but I guess there's a bit of an implied crush on soren's part
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 08:04:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12477032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straccia_Tella/pseuds/Straccia_Tella
Summary: He wasn't wanted anywhere. Not with other Beorc, or even with the laguz. Despite all that, there was only one person whom he felt he could trust, someone he wanted to stand beside.





	Forgotten Reunion

 The young boy wobbled unsteadily in the woods, nursing a small bruise on his arm. He had arrived at Gallia for less than an half an hour and already he had been chased out of town like a wild animal. Rocks, sticks and words were the weapons used against him. He couldn’t speak in his own defense even if he had tried, but he perfectly understood the things the people of the town had said. They were words of spite, malice and hatred.  
 “Get out of here, you freak!”  
 “Abomination!”  
 “ _Monster_!”  
 “Don’t you dare come back!”  
 He traced the red mark across his forehead, silently ruminating how the brand made him so different from common folk. He wasn’t angry or sad though, he had almost expected the people of the town to react in the way of fear when they laid their eyes on him. It was not just his dark emerald colored hair, unnaturally pale skin that made him seem ill, or even his piercing crimson eyes that set him apart from the beorcs, it was the mark on his forehead that told everyone to isolate him above all else.  
 It was a brand no doubt, but of what kind was something he hadn’t investigated on his own time. His teacher had claimed his brand was the mark of a “Spirit Charmer” and therefore meant that the boy could harness great power and was dead set on making the young boy his apprentice. Although he was raised by a woman not akin to him or held even the slightest acknowledgement for his existence, his teacher at least, paid him attention. Despite the fact that they worked day and night with little rest between training in the ways of magic.  
 He knew nothing of the thing called “joy”, the knowledge of warmth that people could bring, nor the happiness others could bestow upon those around them. He was however, keenly aware that people could bring suffering and pain, whenever they pleased.  
 People scorned him, even the laguz around the terrain seemed to gaze at him with contempt and then acted as if he never even existed.  
 A low growl resounded and he slightly frowned down, grasping his stomach. It had been at least a few days since he had a proper meal, and the forests didn’t supply any vegetation that surely people could safely consume. Looking closely at himself, he noticed how dirtied and tattered his grey robe was and gave himself a light pat to ward off the dust that clung to his clothes. It didn’t do much and he soon gave up.

Despite all the knowledge he now possessed, it did little to prepare him for the outside world. After his teacher had died days before of natural causes, it left him alone in the world. Even the bits of food he managed to take with him hardly lasted. He hadn’t eaten in a couple of days, and resorted to travelling to the nearest village to see if he could beg. That had ended well for him.  
 The boy wandered around the forest for a bit longer before noticing a large tree he decided to use for shade. As he settled beneath the dark trunk, his vision was becoming extremely blurry, and hunger was starting to win over his consciousness.

  He wondered if he was going to die here, the thought didn’t even seem to bother him as he decided he’d probably feel better if he could just pass out from the world peacefully like this. Small rays of sun fell on him through the leaves of the trees as he slowly closed his eyes.

   
  
 Another young boy named Ike walked into the forest, lightly kicking some pebbles with the tip of his boot. His dark blue hair caught bits of light that passed over him and his matching blue eyes searched the ground for a stick he could play with.

 He had quickly gotten bored of shopping with his mother and younger sister, so she had allowed him to play in the forest as long has he were careful and back before noon. She had packed him a small lunch and he held it in one of his hands, swinging it to the rhythm of his marching feet.  
 Ike found a reasonably sized stick, carefully placing his lunch down before picking it up. He grasped it the same way he had seen his father do many times before, and swung it as if it were a real sword. However, it wasn’t giving the desired power, so he discarded it.

 He grabbed his food and began to scavenge for another, pushing past bushes to find some more stray sticks. When he finally made it through a clearing, he saw a large tree with a large lump of cloth at the base, and something that had the color of emerald. He walked up to get a better look of the figure and upon closer inspection, he found out the figure was a boy probably no older than himself. He eyed the green haired boy’s bruised hand, long dark hair and dirty clothing.  
 “Hey, are you alright?” he asked, and knelt down to see if he was alive.  
 Warily, he put a hand on his shoulder and lightly shook him. He wouldn’t know what to do if the younger boy was dead.  
 “Come on, wake up.”  
 The young boy stirred and gave a small groan, his eyes opened to reveal crimson irises. The two boys stared at each other for a moment, taking in the stranger before them, when suddenly like an animal, the green haired boy shoved Ike away, letting out a strangled cry. Ike fell back, yelping in surprise, and when he looked up, the green haired boy gave him a look of fright and distrust.  
 “What’s wrong?”  
 The young boy kept glaring daggers at him, almost feral like, and made a face that believed the whole world was against him. Ike wasn’t used to seeing such hostility, but he managed to keep himself calm.

The mood was broken by the sound of a growling stomach.

The green haired boy’s face dropped down to his knees. Without hesitating, Ike unwrapped his lunch and held it out to the boy. It wasn’t much, just a slice of bread with some lettuce and meat in the middle, and he had a small flask of water but it should be enough.  
 “Here, take it.”  
 The young boy looked at him, as if waiting for a trick to be played.  
 “Take it, you need it more than me,” Ike insisted, moving the food even closer to the boy. “Go on.”  
 The boy eyed the food, and finally, took it after his hunger won over his senses. He stared at the food as if unsure whether or not to eat it, but he became ravenous the second his teeth touched the bread. He didn’t stop to acknowledge Ike until he had scarfed down his meal in a matter of seconds. Ike then offered his water, to which the boy gulped down, although Ike did make note of the small streams pouring over the boys lips. He coughed lightly before handing everything back to Ike.  
 “You must have been pretty hungry…” Ike noted.  
 The young boy wiped his hands of crumbs and mouth of residue before staring up quietly, probably wondering what was going to happen next. His eyes were filled with doubt and confusion, as if he were trying to see whether or not he was dreaming.  
 “I’m Ike,” the blue haired boy said. “My family is in Gallia shopping. I decided to take a walk in the forest and then found you passed pit beneath this tree.”  
 Ike looked around the forest before returning his eyes to the boy, who hadn’t moved from where he sat.  
 “What are you doing out here alone? Where are your parents?”  
 The green haired boy sat there perplexed, thinking over the question, his mouth opened, but no sound came out.

It had now only occurred to him that while learning complex spells from texts that would have given even adults headaches, he had never learned to actually speak. He could formulate spells and formulas, but words alluded him. His teacher probably figured a silent Spirit Charmer was better than none, and if his pupil’s responses were either a nod or shake of the head, that was enough of an answer.  

He answered Ike’s question by shaking his head and didn’t seem concerned that he had no one to look after him.

  “… I don’t think I understand.” Ike said bluntly.

 Knowing if he continued to just move his head, it would be a difficult to communicate, he took his index finger and began to write slowly in the dirt.  
 “’I’ve been alone for a little now.’”  
 “So you don’t have a family? No one?” Ike repeated, shaking his head in disbelief.  
 “’I’ve felt alone for most of my life anyway, so it doesn’t matter to me.’” The boy replied.  
 Ike sat down in front of the boy, not too close for him to feel uncomfortable, but at the same time, not too far for him to feel like he wasn’t trying to hold the conversation.  
 “Well… even so, there should be people in Gallia who could take care of you, right?”  
 The boy moved a bit uncomfortably, his hands retreating into his large robe sleeves like mice. Ike remembered the small bruises he saw, and somehow understood what the boy was trying to hide. Not wanting to make him feel any more uncomfortable than he already was, Ike changed the subject.  
 “Never mind, forget I asked that. So, can you tell me your name? I don’t think I heard it.”  
He couldn’t give Ike a word that described the kind of person he was, something that everyone called a “name”. As far as the woman who looked after him was concerned, as long as he was quiet, ate, slept or stayed out of her way, she didn’t even bother to give him a name; neither did his teacher, who labeled him a “Spirit Charmer”, a title he did not wish to display.  
 “’I-‘”, the boy paused in the middle of his writing, carefully considering his next words. “’I was never really given a name to begin with, the people who looked after me didn’t think it was necessary to call me anything.’”  
  Ike figured if the boy didn’t want to speak about his past, he had to have gone through a lot to avoid the subject almost altogether.  
"Never mind, you don't have to answer." He grinned at the boy, who seemed mildly confused at Ike's kindness.  
  "'You're out here wandering on your own, are you not? I can only imagine what your parents could be thinking.'"  
  "My mother gave me permission to go off anyway, so I don't think it's a really pressing matter."  
  ”‘Well, for your mother, perhaps not but what of your father’?"  
  "My father is a mercenary, so he's usually busy no matter where we are." Ike replied, a small excited grin playing on his face.  
  ”‘Your father is a mercenary’?" The boy had to erase some of his previous conversation just to be able to write more, but he didn't mind.  
  "Yeah, he's known as Greil and his company is the Greil Mercenaries, they're actually really strong despite being such a small group of people."  
  The green haired boy was now leaning away from the tree trunk.  
  "'Why are you telling me all of this? I'm a complete stranger to you, and yet you treat me like a friend’?"  
Ike thought a while before answering, "You seemed lonely somehow, as if you hadn't talked to someone in a long time."  
  He paused to see the other boy's expression.

  "I'm sorry if I'm boring you, but I'm not much of person for creating conversation..."  
  Somehow, a small grin formed onto the boy's face. "' You’re not bothering me at all.'" His hand faltered before writing once more. "'You're right, I've never had... the chance to talk to someone about trivial things’."  
  A grin was Ike's face and two continued to chat about whatever happened to be on their minds and time began to move all too quickly. By the time Ike looked up at the sky, it was already an orange hue.  
"I have to get going, sorry."  
  The younger boy seemed shocked at this as he looked up at Ike as if he were losing a treasure he had just found. Ike reassured the boy with a smile, a gentle smile he felt he didn't use too often.  
"Don't worry. I'll bring you some more food tomorrow, same place and time."  As he turned to leave, he added: "I promise."  
  The young boy watched Ike disappear through the thicket, listening to his footsteps vanishing. He was left alone in the forest, the gnawing pain of hunger was a distant feeling now, but nothing else about his situation had changed.

  The boy stared down at the ground and began to gently rub the loose dirt away that carried his neat writing. He leaned back on the tree waiting for dusk, which came rather quickly. With nowhere else to really go to, since Gallia was completely out of the question, the boy decided to camp beneath the tree as he curled up in his grey robes, which were a little too big for him to wear, but enough to keep him covered for the night. Although it was not warm out, the young boy felt something warm in his chest, something foreign even to him.  
  His thoughts collided in his skull, happy and confused, trying to make sense of the strange boy Ike.

  One of the few thing he thought in his head, was how he didn’t even thank Ike for giving him his own food and keeping him company, when he could have just left him to starve and act as if he never existed, like everyone else did. Beorcs, Laguz, it didn’t matter whose eyes fell upon the boy with the strange mark on his forehead and abnormal physical features, he was treated all the same: with discontent, a thing that shouldn’t have even existed.

  Yet Ike didn’t treat him that way, he made him feel safe, welcomed, accepted, something he had never really known up to this point of his life. He decided just as he was drifting off to sleep, that maybe he wouldn’t mind seeing Ike the next day; wondering if he was really going to keep his promise.  


 

  The smell of smoke and iron filled his nose as he awoke. It wasn’t even midday when he observed the sky above him. Screams arose from Gallia, causing the boy’s already empty stomach to drop. He remembered what Ike had said to him the day before: “My family is in Gallia, shopping.” He managed to stand up, almost tripping over his robes and moved as quickly as he could towards the town.  
  He was afraid of going back because of how he had been persecuted before, but he felt now wasn’t the time to let fear hinder him. As he got closer to, the ruin became more and more apparent.  
  All around strewn across the grounds were dead bodies, women, children, men, and even soldiers. Those who managed to escape the massacre were still running around in a panic, no one paid any heed to the lone boy.  
  Smoke curled into the air like hands grasping for freedom, but he managed to ignore most of the events going on around him, including the putrid smell of smoke and death filling his nose. With a shaking hand, he walked towards every corpse that he could find and inspected each for one thing: a child with blue hair. He even checked inside the deserted houses to see if any bodies could have lain inside.

  His search proved in vain, yet he was relieved. If Ike’s body wasn’t among the fallen, he must have escaped somehow.  
 He was surprised at this elation rising in his chest, and concerned all the same. Ike must have escaped with his family from whomever or whatever was attacking the town. From the wounds and cuts that he observed on the lifeless bodies, the attacker was strong, who used a large weapon to cut down everything in its path.

  The boy stared down at the dead bodies for a little while before eventually scavenging for food and supplies that survived the bloodbath and then left Gallia. He had no destination or much thought in mind, but he didn’t need one.  


  
 Several years had passed since that day, and Soren had wandered around the land. He now wore a dark hood over his face in order to keep himself hidden from others views, which made it easier for him to gather the information he needed from others without them staring at his features, or the mark on his forehead with either curiosity or disgust. Soren had seated himself in a small tavern, quietly reading a book on strategies he had picked up from a peddler on the road and was able to successfully ignore most of the bustle around him.  
 “Hey, you there,” a burly man said as he walked up to Soren who continued read without acknowledging the man. “Ain’t you one of them mercenary’s?”  
 Soren lifted his eye gradually, enough to seem annoyed, and also enough to seem intimidating.  
 “What in the world made you think that?” he asked coldly.

 It was a habit of his to speak in a certain almost harsh-like manner filled with nothing but seriousness. He found this way of talking easier to communicate, as well as making his thoughts known, since he found no reason to sugar coat anything. He’d rather not mince his words than beat around the bush. The man wavered, noticing the hostility in this stranger’s voice, but managed to keep his ground.  
 “Well… I guess you just give off the air of bein’ one of ‘em I guess?” he replied becoming slightly wary of Soren’s hidden icy-stare, and rueful of even starting this conversation. “You ain’t with the Greil Mercenary’s?”  
 Soren became visibly startled, his hand in a mid-flip of a page in his book. He looked up at the man, trying hard to contain his shock.  
 “Did I hear you right? You said the Greil Mercenary’s correct?” Soren inquired.  
 “Yeah, you ain’t heard of them? They’re pretty well known in this town as-“  
 “Yes, yes, I’m well aware of their reputation,” Soren said hurriedly waving his hand at the man, he rarely ever interrupted anyone when they talked, even if he didn’t like that person. “Tell me where you saw them last.”  
 “Huh? Ah, they were around here the day before on a job getting rid of some bandits I presume-“  
 “Where is there headquarters?”  
 “Er, you have to go past the town and then onto the road north. Keep following that path and their base should be towards the ends of the road, but-“  
The man never got to finish his sentence as the cloaked figure had left the tavern like a ghost without a trace.  
 Soren was walking quickly on the path he had been told as fast as he could possibly manage, eyes trained on the end of the road before him. His heart was racing wildly while one hand held onto his book. The faster he walked, the further away his destination seemed to be, although he could see the stone wall in the distance which lead to what seemed to be a small stronghold.

  As he ventured closer, someone appeared near the entrance, with a large pile of wooden sticks slung over his shoulder; he had spiked blue hair. He was close enough to call out to the boy, but his voice didn’t want to cooperate with him. The boy however, noticed Soren anyway as he turned and looked perplexed at the stranger.  
 “Who are you?” he asked. The way he asked didn’t sound threatening or hostile, he just seemed curious.  “Do you have some business with the Greil Mercenary’s?”  
 Soren managed walked a little closer. He could see the dark headband around the boy’s forehead, the visible cuts on his arms and the tattered auburn cape behind him, fluttering gently in the breeze. He was now within at least an arm’s length away, but he stood frozen in his spot, unable to move any further than that.  
 “….” Soren did not say anything, but he analyzed the boy, was this really the one he met those years past? Or was he wrong? No, there couldn’t be any mistake in that blue hair of his. No one else could have that kind of color.  
 “If you want to ask me something, could you remove your hood first? At least then we can talk face-to-face,” the blue-haired male suggested.  
 Soren hadn’t noticed that his hood had remained over his face since he had left the tavern. He was in such a rush that he forgot something as simple as that, it surprised and embarrassed him somewhat. After removing his hood and letting the sun bathe his skin, he waited for the boy to talk once more. When he gave no indication to answering, he took to looking at Soren, probably wondering whether or not to trust him.  
 “I heard that this was where one would find the Greil Mercenary’s,” Soren replied.  
 “Well, you’ve found them,” the boy said. “Do you have a job for us, or are you here on a different kind of business?”  
 “No, I didn’t come here with a job offer,” Soren answered, his eyes never wavering from the boy’s face.  
 Noticing this, the other male looked at him bewilderingly, “Have we met somewhere before? You’re staring at me quiet intently.”  
 “Was I? I was not aware, I apologize. I didn’t mean anything by it.” Soren answered as calmly as he could manage.  “As for your question, perhaps we have met somewhere.”  
 “In honesty… I really can’t say that I remember seeing your face anywhere, I’m sorry.” The boy looked genuinely apologetic at Soren, shifting the sticks on his shoulder somewhat.  
 Soren felt an uncomfortable sickness wrap around his stomach, and he wanted to at least turn away. However, he was also happy, the reason being was he found the person he had been searching for throughout his travels.

   Even though he may not be able to thank him for a deed he couldn’t remember, he felt he had to repay the one who had rescued him from a dark pit such a long time ago. He had saved his life. That’s all that mattered to him.  
 “No need for you to apologize, I must have mistaken you for someone else,” the mage said. “Also, I have a proposition.”  
 “Proposition for what?”  
 “Is it possible for me to join the Greil Mercenary’s?”  
 “It is,” the blue haired boy answered. “However, I don’t do the recruiting around here. You’ll have to see my father- I mean, Commander Greil about it. He’s the leader of this group after all." He looked at Soren with more interest, "Well, what is it that you specialize in?”  
 “I excel in magic, specifically, wind magic. I’m also a good tactician.” Soren said in a blunt business-like manner, it was something that he did out of reflex, more than a habit. If people didn't like it, he didn't care, this was simply part of his personality.  
 The blue-haired boy looked impressed as he stood there thinking.

“Heh, I like you. Well, we can always use a tactician. Come on, the commander should be inside the base, probably discussing another job offer.”  
 The boy moved closer to Soren, extending one of his hands, grinning politely.  
 “My name is Ike, by the way.”  
 Soren gave a small smile in turn of his own, extending his own hand to Ike’s,“Soren.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did a lot of editing on this old piece.


End file.
